


Model Agent

by Gort



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cardigan Stealing, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Grumpy Cat Mug, Happy Ending, Mutual Pining, Season/Series 01, frustrated masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-06-29 10:52:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15727923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gort/pseuds/Gort
Summary: AU Season 1. The mission: Infiltrate a photography studio. The decoy: Fitz. The collateral damage: Jemma's libido. What's a girl to do when she's got a crush on her best friend and he's making it impossible to ignore?Beta'd by Sunalso who continues to put up with me (for some reason).





	1. Act 1

“We’ve got a mission for your agents,” Agent Hand said to Coulson, ignoring the rest of them. Jemma stood a little taller, excited to have been (sort of) noticed by one of the senior agents of SHIELD.

“Sure,” Coulson said, glancing at May, who shrugged. “Is there a particular reason you need us?”

Hand gave him a tight smile. “We feel this is a mission suited to your team’s particular…talents.” She handed Coulson a piece of paper. “Here’s the address. Have Agents Ward and Fitz there at oh eight hundred sharp tomorrow. I’ll send you the details.” Jemma’s mouth dropped open and she caught Fitz’s eye. He looked as flummoxed as she was.

Coulson glanced at the paper, his eyebrows lifting. “Right, we’d better head out.” Jerking his head, he led the way towards the doors while Jemma struggled not to snatch the paper right out of his hand.

Didn’t Agent Hand know than Jemma was the one who was always partnered with Fitz? He couldn’t just go on a mission alone, without her. What if something happened? What if he needed her? What if he _didn’t_ need her? What if…oh, for heaven’s sake she needed to stop getting all worked up for no reason. Surely Coulson wouldn’t send Fitz into some horribly dangerous situation. Jemma would just have to make sure Ward knew he’d better bring Fitz back to her in one piece, or there’d be hell to pay.

And perhaps she’d make Fitz his favorite sandwich, just in case.

***

Fitz was sure he was in hell.

Ward looked entirely too comfortable, slumped in a rickety plastic chair in a room with terrible florescent lighting, surrounded by other similarly well-coiffed men who all managed to be annoyingly taller than Fitz and looked like they spent every waking moment at a gym. He scowled and consoled himself with the fact that even combined, their IQ was still likely lower than his.

Glancing to one side, Fitz caught sight of the equations being worked out in the notebook of the guy sitting next to him and his scowl deepened. Fine, his and Jemma’s combined IQ still beat all these wankers.

Jemma had seemed really worried about Fitz going on this mission with Ward, despite the lack of any real danger unless Fitz fell in a vat of hair gel or something. He’d been hoping Agent Hand had chosen him for a task that was at least vaguely scary so he could show Jemma he was capable of being the kind of man she seemed to prefer, but no, he’d gotten stuck in a room full of bloody male models as though to rub in exactly how he didn’t measure up.

Fitz shifted in his chair and wondered if it was too early to eat his sandwich. He had no idea how long they’d have to be here, and despite arriving nearly twenty minutes early—on time was late, Ward had intoned obnoxiously on the drive over—they’d been waiting for nearly three hours.

Perhaps he’d better save the sandwich for when he got desperate.

“Graham Wayne?” someone called from the front of the room. Ward stood up and ran a hand through his hair, giving the girl with a clipboard a winning smile. She didn’t seem affected in the slightest, Fitz noticed smugly. Fitz got up and trailed after Ward, only to be stopped by clipboard girl. “Wait until you’re called,” she said in a bored tone, barely looking at him.

“Uh,” Fitz said, darting a look at Ward.

“He’s my P.A.,” Ward said quickly.

The girl looked up, finally, and focused on Ward, then Fitz, her eyes narrowing in a way that made Fitz vaguely uncomfortable. “Is he? Huh.” She tapped a pen against her lips and spun in her heel. “Follow me.”

They traversed several hallways and ended up in a large studio. The lights were so bright Fitz had to squint, peering into the dark corners in search of what he’d come for. All he needed was time to download whatever secrets the photographer was storing on his server and they’d be ready to go.

From the fuss being made over Ward’s hair, Fitz guessed he had more than enough time. Fitz sidled over to the computer equipment and dropped his bag, opening it up and retrieving his sandwich along with a tablet and a cable. The last he quickly plugged into the humming computer tower and set to download, settling down with his back against the wall while he finally unwrapped his lunch as a reward for going along with this ridiculous scheme. Honestly, didn’t SHIELD have better things to do than infiltrate some photographer’s studio?

“Excuse me?”

Fitz almost dropped his sandwich as he looked up to find clipboard girl hovering over him. Shit, he had one job on this mission and he’d bungled it. Normally, he was fantastic at being invisible. “Uh, yes?” He stood and nudged the tablet away with his foot, hoping she hadn’t noticed it.

“Are you eating?” she hissed, sounding offended. Fitz stared at her in confusion as she snatched the sandwich from his hand. “Stop that and come with me.” She dumped the sandwich into a nearby bin and Fitz almost cried.

“What-”

“Oh, you’re right,” some stranger purred, poking at Fitz’s hair with a comb.

Fitz flattened his curls with one hand and glared at the comb-guy, along with clipboard girl. Over their shoulders, he could see Ward arguing with someone. “Hey, what-” Fitz tried again.

“I keep telling them they need to try something other than the same old, same old.”

“He’s pretty cute,” the comb-guy observed.

Fitz put his hands on his hips and looked over his shoulder. “What the hell are you two on about? Is Ward giving you trouble?” There, that sounded sufficiently P.A.-ish, whatever that was.

Comb-guy smiled, and alarm bells went off in Fitz’s head. “Not yet, but he might need a new P.A. after this.”

***

“I still can’t believe it!” Ward said for the hundredth time since they’d left the photography studio, turning the SUV into the airfield where the Bus was parked.

Fitz scowled and sank further back in the seat. All the crap the photo people had put in his hair was making his scalp itchy. “You can’t believe it? Did you see what they did to me? There was poking and prodding and…and water! My trousers are soaked. And they threw away my sandwich!”

“Well, at least we got whatever was on the computer,” Ward pointed out. Fitz scowled harder. Ward had ended up babysitting the tablet until the download was complete while some insane man had barked instructions at Fitz that made absolutely no sense and a flash went off repeatedly right in his face. It had been horrible. The whole mission had barely required him at all. Fitz sank down even lower in his seat, dejected. “And you got discovered,” Ward said, smirking, before reaching over to muss Fitz’s hair.

Fitz smacked his hand away. “We’re not telling anyone about this.”

“Uh huh,” Ward said, sounding amused. “Except it was an official mission. There’ll be a debrief and everything.”

Fitz groaned and dropped his head onto his hands. “Please tell me you at least got all the pictures.”

“Oh, I got copies of everything,” Ward said.

“Copies?” Fitz said, horrified. “You didn’t delete them?”

“Relax,” Ward said. “I’m sure they won’t use your pictures once they realize Peter Capaldi doesn’t exist.” They bumped up the ramp onto the Bus and Ward braked, parking the SUV.

“Uh, sure,” Fitz said, shifting uneasily. Ward was probably right, they wouldn’t use the pictures of some guy who’d clearly given them a fake name. Thank the bloody lord their mission was over. Fitz desperately needed a shower and a drink, so he could forget this whole nightmare of a day had ever happened.

***

The nightmare had apparently followed him to the Bus.

After washing all the horrible product out of his hair, Fitz wandered into the lounge in search of a beer or, if he could find it, Coulson’s secret stash of scotch, only to end up staring at his own face on the monitors while Skye squealed loudly and clutched Jemma’s arm.

Ward was innocently drinking a beer on the couch, but that didn’t fool Fitz in the slightest. “You utter wanker,” Fitz hissed at him.

Skye let out a gasp and Fitz closed his eyes, resigning himself to a week’s worth of teasing at the very least before accepting the conciliatory beer Ward handed him. He plopped down on the couch beside Ward while the girls scrolled through the idiotic pictures.

“Skye would have found them eventually,” Ward said. “Might as well get it over with.”

Fitz tipped his head back against the couch cushions. “I’ve never been so humiliated.”

“Really?” Ward asked. Fitz glared at him.

“Oh my god, Jems, look at this one!” Skye exclaimed.

Fitz peeked in their direction only to see the worst of the bunch up on the screen. The damn photography team had forced him into a white t-shirt at one point and proceeded to practically drown him, plastering his curls to his head and making him look like something that had washed up on the tide and reeked to high heaven. He took a long swallow of beer and upped his estimated teasing time to two weeks, based on Skye’s giggles.

Strangely, Jemma hadn’t made any noise at all. That was entirely unlike her. Fitz scooted forward so he could see her face, morbidly curious. He’d been expecting her to lead the charge in the teasing department, honestly.

She was standing next to Skye, their arms linked, but where Skye was animated, Jemma was entirely blank. She was staring at his pictures with an expression on her face that he’d never seen, like she couldn’t quite figure out how to process them. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth slightly open, and she was just…staring. It was unsettling, to say the least. He knew the pictures were awful, but deep down he’d kind of—well, he’d stupidly held onto some dim hope that they’d finally make Jemma see him in an entirely different light, maybe as more than just her best friend.

Obviously, he’d been very wrong.

He needed to stop fooling himself. She was never going to think of him as anything other than her lab partner, and he’d just have to be content with that. They’d been friends for so long, sometimes even he forgot his long-standing crush. Someday, maybe, it would actually fade.

Tipping the beer bottle back, he drained it. Right now, though, he was going to get utterly pissed.

***

Jemma was catastrophically screwed. She couldn’t seem to get her brain or her mouth to work, though thankfully no one had seemed to notice yet.

Skye was giggling non-stop next to her, flipping through all the photos Ward had handed over with a wink right before Jemma had been plunged into her absolute worst nightmare. It was like someone had reached into the dark corners of her brain and plucked out every last torrid fantasy she’d ever had about her best friend and put them on display for everyone to see.

Dammit, how could Skye _laugh_ while Fitz glowered down at them from the monitor, his hair damp and curling down over his forehead and his eyes so blue Jemma would have thought it some photographer’s trick if she didn’t know better.

But she did know better. She knew those eyes practically better than her own, and she’d gotten very, very good at not noticing them, because when she did, she tended to picture exceptionally inappropriate things involving those eyes and dimly lit rooms and activities requiring considerably less clothing than lab safety required.

She’d had years of practice ignoring those thoughts, since Fitz had never given her even a hint that he might think of her that way, and the last thing she ever wanted was to lose his friendship. It was too important. He was too important. She was sure that eventually, someday, she’d get over her silly crush, but this…this was entirely unfair. How dare Fitz blindside her like this?

The rational part of her brain pointed out that clearly, from Ward’s remarks and Skye’s giggling, Jemma was supposed to find this all quite entertaining, but instead she couldn’t stop staring at Fitz’s mouth in the photos, his lips pursed angrily while his shirt—which was scandalously close to see-through—clung to his shoulders. Even now, when they all practically lived on top of one another, she rarely saw him less than fully dressed.

She could feel a flush working its way up her throat while she tried to rein in her hormones before someone noticed her gawping at Fitz’s pictures like a lovesick adolescent. Fitz was obviously embarrassed by them, though god knew why, when they’d turned out so gorgeous.

The worst part was that Ward had implied things hadn’t gone according to plan, which meant that someone else had noticed what Jemma tried so desperately not to notice every damn day. Jealousy curdled in her stomach and she abruptly turned away from the screen, only to find herself staring directly at the real, live Fitz, who was watching her curiously from the couch. Jemma froze and blinked a few times, her mind filling with a dozen improbable and rather exhibitionist courses of action before she turned tail and fled the room.

***

Heart pounding, Jemma leaned back against the door to her room and took a deep calming breath. She closed her eyes, trying to clear her mind, but the damn photos kept popping right up, tormenting her. Her nipples were chafing against her bra and the ache between her legs was ratcheting up rather than going away. Her eyes snapped back open.

She was doomed.

Someone knocked on the door and Jemma yelped before clearing her throat. “Yes?” Oh god, what if it was Fitz? She really shouldn’t be left unattended with him at the moment, or she might do something incredibly stupid.

“Jemma?” Skye called through the door. “You ok?”

Ignoring the disappointment that rolled through her, Jemma opened her door. “I’m fine, Skye.”

Skye lifted her eyebrows. “So, you didn’t just run off to hide in here for some reason?”

“No, of course not!” Jemma said quickly, casting about for some excuse. “I just…I’m very tired.”

“It’s barely seven thirty.”

“I didn’t sleep well last night.”

 “Uh huh,” Skye said sounding skeptical. She stepped into Jemma’s room and shut the door behind her. “Is there something else that’s bothering you? Maybe…something with Fitz?”

“What? No!” Jemma said, hating that her voice went up about three octaves on the second word.

Skye’s expression turned sympathetic. “I know you were worried about him today, but he’s fine.” She shot Jemma an amused grin. “Plus, you’ve got to admit, those pictures are going to be the best blackmail for, like, _forever_. Fitz the reluctant supermodel was not something I ever thought I’d see.”

“I wasn’t worried, I mean, not very much. Ward was with him, after all, but…it was just a long day.” Jemma smiled a little. “He did look like he hated every moment of it, didn’t he?”

Skye snorted. “He hates everything that doesn’t have to do with the lab, and you, I think.” She tilted her head, and her contemplative look had Jemma suddenly worried. “He did look pretty cute, though, don’t you think?”

“What?” Jemma forced a laugh that sounded hollow even to her ears. “Oh, I don’t know, I can’t say I noticed.”

“Uh huh,” Skye said, sounding skeptical. “Sure.”

“Ok, well, I’m going to get ready for bed now,” Jemma said cheerfully, trying desperately to remember the last time she’d charged her vibrator. It had to have been recently, she hoped, and the others wouldn’t be in their bunks for a while, so she wouldn’t have to worry about anyone overhearing it. It’d been billed as nearly silent, but the manufacturers clearly had never been separated by only one thin wall from the best friend they were picturing while they used it.

“If you want.” Skye headed for the door. “I just wanted to make sure you were ok.”

“Never better,” Jemma assured her.

***

Oh god.

Jemma twisted her hand into the sheets underneath her, adjusting the angle of the tiny vibe she was pressing against her clit and tried to keep quiet. She hadn’t heard the others come back from the lounge yet, but it was bound to happen soon. She’d already brought herself to orgasm twice, but she could feel the desire pooling in her belly again, signaling another was imminent.

She arched her back, rubbing her nipples against the sheet over her for a little friction and desperately wishing she had more toys, maybe one to fill the aching emptiness between her legs. She bit her lip to keep a whimper from escaping and pressed a little harder, increasing the vibration to a level that wouldn’t be prudent were anyone else around.

Blue eyes and visions of wet, clinging shirts danced behind her eyelids despite her attempts not to picture Fitz exactly, just someone who looked vaguely like him, perhaps his long-lost brother who was eager to be more than friends. Except her mind kept supplying him with Fitz’s voice, rasping her name in her ear and Fitz’s capable hands touching her in all the right places.

A tiny groan escaped her as she twisted her wrist and felt her orgasm roll through her, spreading through her limbs as she shuddered, finally turning off her vibrator and collapsing back against the bed, trying to catch her breath.

This was an absolutely terrible turn of events. She was, without a doubt, the worst best friend ever.


	2. Act 2

“Simmons?” Fitz asked.

Jemma almost dropped the beaker she was holding, though what the hell she was supposed to be doing with it had completely slipped her mind. Jemma spun around and took a step back when she realized how close Fitz was standing. Her hip bumped the table behind her and rattled a rack full of test tubes. “Yes?” she squeaked.

“Are you done analyzing that sample?” he asked, his brows drawing together. “I can give Coulson an update, later, if you want.”

“No, no, that’s fine,” Jemma said, edging away from him. “I, um, I’m not done.” Good lord, was he wearing cologne? He smelled absolutely delicious. She wanted to bury her face against his neck and try to memorize the scent for her next vibrator session, but that might be a tad difficult to explain if he asked her what she was doing.

Fitz frowned and put his hands on his hips. “Are you alright?”

“Fine!” Jemma said, sliding around to the other side of the table so she wasn’t tempted to touch him.

“You’ve been kind of…distracted,” he said. “Is something wrong?”

“Not at all!” Jemma said. Fitz lifted an eyebrow and she winced.

“I’m going to make some tea,” he said after a long moment. “Want a cuppa?”

“Yes, please,” Jemma said, relieved he’d finally asked her a question she didn’t have to lie about. “Thank you.”

“’Course.”

He gave her one last searching look before heading out the lab doors, leaving Jemma to slump into a nearby chair. She dropped her head onto her hand and groaned. It was like some switch had been flipped inside of her and Fitz’s mere proximity was enough to send her body into overdrive.  Last night was supposed to have taken care of her…urges, but it just seemed to have made them exponentially worse. 

He’d clearly noticed something was wrong, but there was no way she was sharing this with him, even if he was usually the first person she turned to when she had an impossible problem to solve.

Poor Fitz. He was always so good to her, and here she was, completely objectifying him. She was an awful, awful friend.

***

Fitz banged around the kitchen, getting out mugs and tea bags and filling the kettle that had begrudgingly been supplied after Jemma had written Coulson an essay-length email about the inferiority of microwaving water for tea. Fitz knew he was being too loud, but he had to get his frustration out somehow and there was no way he was going to slam drawers down in the lab since Simmons was already upset about who knew what. She’d share it eventually, he was sure. She always did. It wasn’t like her to hold out on him. 

He filled the kettle with water and banged it onto the stovetop to heat. The mugs he treated with more care only because he didn’t want to break his favorite Grumpy Cat one. Jemma had gotten it for him ages ago, back when they’d first started at Sci-Ops and made it a point to meet for tea every morning even when they’d been assigned to different projects.

He missed that, sometimes, hurrying to make their tea-break and knowing she’d be waiting for him with a smile and a story to tell.

Working with Jemma without annoying lab techs interrupting them every five seconds had always been Fitz’s goal, but now that they had a lab of their own it was difficult to tell if she really enjoyed their time together or if she just endured him.

He frowned at the frowning cat picture on his mug. Was this how she saw him, cranky about everything and everyone? He knew he had a tendency to be pessimistic, but she’d never seemed to mind, no matter how much he complained. It’s always seemed quite poetic that his best friend, and—when he allowed himself to admit it—his other half, was quite literally the brightest, loveliest, most cheerful person in his world.

Maybe she’d finally had enough of him. Fitz’s shoulders slumped.

He dropped the tea bags into the mugs and went hunting for a spoon, rattling the silverware with unnecessary force before banging the drawer shut.

“Wow, you’re just a ray of sunshine this morning, aren’t you?” Skye said from the doorway. She crossed her arms. “Did you and Simmons have a fight or something?”

“What?” Fitz asked. “No. I don’t think so.” He tried to remember everything he and Simmons had talked about since he’d come back from that stupid mission with Ward yesterday before quickly realizing they’d hardly talked at all. “Why, did she say something?”

Skye lifted her hands in a gesture of surrender. “Oh no, I’m not getting in the middle of this. I just…she looked kinda down this morning, and you’re in here bashing everything to death, so I just wondered if something was up.” She shrugged.

“Nothing that I’ve been made aware of,” Fitz said testily. “Perhaps she just didn’t enjoy the show as much as you seemed to last night.”

To his surprise, Skye just stood there, considering him, instead of responding to his jab. “Yeah, maybe so.”

Fitz blinked at her in bewilderment, a little frightened of the determined gleam in her eye. “What?” 

“Nothing. I gotta go.” Skye didn’t move though. Instead, she seemed fixated on his shirt. Fitz glanced down, trying to see if he’d spilled some of his breakfast, only to yelp a moment later as Skye invaded his personal space and yanked on the ends of his tie. “Ok, look, I know I said I wasn’t going to get involved, but we’re all going to grow old and die here if someone doesn’t do something.”

“Um, you know that’s wrapped around my neck, right?” Fitz tried to tug himself from her grasp.

“Are you making her tea?” Skye’s expression softened. “Listen. Trust me right now, lose the tie and unbutton at least one button.”

“What?” Fitz squawked. He finally succeeded in freeing his tie and backed up a step. “I happen to like this tie!”

Skye rolled her eyes. “I’m not telling you to shred it, Fitz, I’m just saying today, for the rest of the day, lose the tie.”

“Why?”

Wiggling her eyebrows, Skye practically danced out of the kitchen. “Humor me.” She disappeared before he could ask any more questions, and the kettle began to whistle.

Fitz spent a few minutes busily preparing the tea, pausing to look down at his tie a few times. Growling, he finally loosened the knot and yanked it over his head, feeling a bit underdressed without it. Ward hardly ever wore a tie, though, and Coulson didn’t always either. Fitz was just in the lab today, it wasn’t as though anyone would notice. He shoved it in an unoccupied drawer and unbuttoned his collar before picking up the mugs, feeling appreciably more relaxed.

Perhaps Skye had been onto something after all.

***

Jemma braced herself as the door whooshed open, announcing Fitz had returned. She’d spent the time he’d been gone having a very firm chat with herself about behaving like a professional so she could finish her work.

She needed to get a grip. Fitz was still the same Fitz he’d been yesterday, the photos had just thrown her for a loop, that’s all. Dealing with her ridiculous infatuation was mind over matter, and her mind had always been quite capable. She could handle this. In a few days, she’d probably be laughing at herself for being such a ninny. She just had to act normally until then.

Taking a deep breath, Jemma turned towards the door, only to have her greeting die on her lips. Had Fitz _changed_ when he’d gone upstairs? How was she supposed to act normally when Fitz was busy involving himself in scandalous photo shoots and forgetting how to properly button his shirt?

He looked at her hopefully as he held out one of the mugs he was carrying. “Alright?” he said. He took a sip from the mug she’d gotten him long ago, back when they’d started at Sci-Ops, using it as an excuse to cajole him into meeting her every morning for tea just so she never had to go a day without seeing him. It’s been an embarrassingly transparent ploy that Fitz had never seemed to pick up on.

Jemma’s mouth worked, but no sound came out of it. She couldn’t tear her eyes from the now-exposed hollow of his throat while she numbly accepted her tea. Oh god, she was going to melt into a puddle of sexual frustration if he kept doing things like this. 

“What happened to your tie?” she blurted out.

He glanced down and his cheeks turned pink. “Ah, little accident.” He shrugged and sipped his tea but made no move to go back to his side of the lab. He was too close. She caught another whiff of delicious Fitz-smell and felt a little dizzy.

“I…” Jemma abruptly set her mug on the table and decided she just needed some air. “Um, forgot something.” She headed for the doors before he could ask any questions.

Hurrying up the stairs, Jemma shed her lab coat, feeling overheated, and wondered why she thought she needed to wear a button up _and_ a jumper today. She couldn’t change now, not when Fitz had already, that would look incredibly strange. She headed for her bunk, trying to think of something to grab so her abrupt departure would look credible.

She’d already been absolutely wretched to Fitz all morning, ignoring him for as long as she could stand it and trying her best to distract herself from mauling him with her lips, all because of some idiotic photographs. 

Ward was obviously a terrible, horrible person, to torture her like this.  

Jemma paused in front of the door to her bunk, which was slightly ajar. Had she not shut it properly? She reached out, frowning, and slowly pushed it open before letting out a gasp.

“Skye?”

Skye whirled around and clasped her hands behind her back. “Jemma! What are you doing up here? I thought you and Fitz were…uh, I thought I saw him making tea.”

Jemma nodded, her eyes narrowing. “He did. What are you doing in here?”

“Just…thought you might want some stuff for later.” Skye edged toward the door. “I’ll get going. I heard Coulson say he needed a night off, so fingers crossed we get some free time soon, right?”

“What?” Jemma asked blankly, staring at the stack of glossy photos Skye had left on her bed. Fitz stared back at her, scowling and wet and entirely lickable. Jemma snatched up the photos and shook them in Skye’s direction. “Why are you giving me these?”

“He’s your best friend,” Skye said, her eyes widening innocently. “I figured you’d want some, but I couldn’t decide which.” She smiled and tapped her finger on the top one. “This one’s great, don’t you think?”

“No! I mean, of course, objectively, as a…Fitz!” Jemma tossed the photos aside, scattering them around her room like autumn leaves as Fitz appeared in her line of sight and her heart leapt into her throat.

Skye snorted. “Yes, he is, objectively, a Fitz, I guess.”

Jemma shoved Skye out the door of her bunk and pulled it shut as Fitz stopped in front of them. “Um, hello,” Jemma said breathlessly. “Sorry, we were just…”

“Girl talk,” Skye said, swooping in to save her for some reason. “But we’re done now! See you guys.” She disappeared so quickly Jemma would have sworn there was some kind of trap door involved.

Jemma took a deep breath, trying to calm the fluttering in her stomach, and leaned back against the door to her room. Damn, she’d forgotten to grab something to excuse her rapid exit from the lab. Too late now.

Fitz’s brow furrowed. “Hey, I just…” He frowned and raked a hand through his hair, making a mess of his curls. Jemma clenched her fists to keep from reaching out to smooth them back down. “Did I do something?”

“What?” Jemma asked, startled. She met his eyes for the first time all day and the anxiety she saw there made her feel like the worst person in the world. “No!” She forced herself to take a step closer, giving him a reassuring smile. “I promise. You haven’t done a thing.”

“Oh.” Fitz looked less relieved than she’d hoped. “Well then, is it something else? Something I can help with?”

“No,” Jemma said again, shaking her head. Her hand had somehow migrated to the front of Fitz’s shirt, and she pretended to fix his already-straight collar to cover up the fact that she just wanted to touch him. “But thank you for asking.” 

He gave her shy smile that sent her pulse skyrocketing while her traitorous hand slid down his chest. Her gaze fixed on his full lower lip, and she stared, mesmerized, wondering what it would feel like pressed against her own. Fitz glanced down. “Is there something wrong with this shirt?” he asked, sounding perplexed.

Jemma snatched her hand back, feeling her cheeks heat. “No?”

Fitz plucked at the front of it. “Are you sure? Skye told me the get rid of my tie earlier. Is the pattern too weird?”

“Skye…” Jemma trailed off, her eyes narrowing. Well, that explained the clothing change. She was going to kill Skye. “No, Fitz, it looks just fine. Did you see which way Skye went?”

***

It took a bit of doing, but Jemma managed to track down Skye. Unfortunately, she was in the company of Ward, apparently deciding to take her training seriously for once. Jemma glowered at her from the sidelines for a good twenty minutes, but Skye didn’t so much as blink and eventually, Ward’s barked orders began to make Jemma feel guilty for neglecting her own duties.

The problem was, she couldn’t bring herself to go back to the lab. Fitz was bound to be there, and Jemma had to get her head right before she did something entirely regrettable. She had been meaning to organize the general storage cupboard since someone had clearly shoved things in there without regard for proper groupings or ease of access. That seemed like an excellent diversion.

Jemma headed in that direction, pausing only a moment to peer into the lab. Fitz was perched on one of the stools, his chin propped on his hand and his mug at his elbow, poking at a tablet with a slight frown on his face. He still looked entirely too kissable.

She spent a moment chewing on her lower lip, feeling guilty for abandoning him without an explanation, but what was she supposed to do? Announce that he was terribly distracting, and she couldn’t get any work done because she wanted to do things with him that went far beyond the bounds of their friendship? That seemed ill-advised, and the possible repercussions were too awful to imagine. A life without Fitz in it would be no life at all.

She just needed some time to get her ridiculously overactive imagination under control, and then things would go back to normal, with no accidental kissing whatsoever.

She marched determinedly toward the storage cupboard.


	3. Act 3

Several hours of organizing and many layers of dust later, Jemma’s cursed libido was still making itself known. After a shower and a quick salad for dinner, she found herself flat on her back in her bed, wearing down the batteries in her vibrator once more.

Jemma had managed to forget scattering the photos Skye had gifted her with until she’d returned to her bunk, and then picking them all up again had sent her into a tailspin of lust and guilt. Good lord, how had she missed the ones where they’d forced Fitz into a pair of adorable glasses, his eyes somehow more prominent behind the lenses while he gazed in confusion directly at the camera?

Thank god Ward had been the one to accompany Fitz on their bizarre mission. Jemma would have ended up in Fitz’s lap halfway through the photo shoot, chasing the water droplets sliding down his neck with her tongue.

She turned her head and muffled a squeak into her pillow as she pressed down on her clit and her impending orgasm coiled in her belly.

Jemma had given even pretending she wasn’t thinking of Fitz, a parade of his salacious photographs flashing behind her eyelids while she desperately chased her next climax. Fitz pushing the glasses up his nose with a serious frown on his face; Fitz in profile, highlighting the strong line of his jaw while he scowled at someone just out of sight; Fitz pulling on the fabric of his sopping t-shirt, clearly annoyed. Jemma reached up to cup her breast, swiping her thumb across her nipple while her breath came in short gasps.

There was a knock at the door, and she froze.

“Jemma?”

Oh no, _oh no_. Fitz was not standing outside her bunk. He couldn’t be. She squeezed her eyes shut and hoped he couldn’t hear the faint buzz from her vibrator while she tried not to move a muscle, praying he’d go away quickly.

“Jemma?” he asked again, his voice low. Something thumped against her door and she shuddered, trying to keep still even as she pressed the vibe harder against her clit. If she had to guess, he was probably leaning against her door now. She tried desperately to remember if she’d locked it. “The lab was a bit empty today. Look, I know something’s wrong, and whenever you want to talk about it…well, it’s not like you don’t know where to find me, I guess.” There was a brief pause. “If it’s something to do with me, at least let me know how to fix it, yeah?”  

Jemma’s belly tightened even further as she pictured his worried face on the other side of the door and a sudden, treacherous thought flitted through her mind. What if Fitz wasn’t opposed to the kinds of things she imagined doing with him? What if she was bold enough to invite him in and show him exactly what’d been occupying her mind all damn day?

This time it wasn’t his pictures flashing behind her eyelids, but memories of all the times he’d been there before she’d even had to ask.

Stepping up behind her to help steady her hand for a particularly tricky transfer, his breath hot against her ear. His hand on her back, steering her in the right direction when she was trying to read and walk at the same time, the warmth from his palm seeping through the layers of clothing she had on. The way his eyes lit up when she’d figured out something she didn’t have words for yet, somehow already knowing what she was going to say.

God, they fit so well together.

Jemma bit her lip to keep from making any noise as her climax hit, rolling out from her core and causing her whole body to light up with pleasure. The line between reality and fantasy was becoming strangely muddled in her head.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Fitz said through the door before his footsteps let her know he was moving away. His bunk door closed a moment later. Jemma let out the breath she’d been holding and fumbled to turn off her vibrator, her oversensitive clit still humming from the aftermath of her orgasm. An orgasm brought on by the sound of her best friend’s voice.

She wasn’t going to be able to look Fitz in the eye for _weeks_. 

***

Fitz scowled down at his tablet. Poking at the upgraded ICER design, he could think of at least six and a half questions he wanted to ask Simmons about its efficiency, plus a dozen questions about what, exactly, was bothering her. He would have sworn she’d been in her bunk earlier, but it wasn’t like her to not answer him at all. Even on the occasions she’d been angry with him, she’d always told him why.

He’d been alone in the lab most of the afternoon and he was running out of ideas as to what could possibly have kept Simmons away if it wasn’t something to do with him. He’d caught sight of her a couple times since the Bus wasn’t that large, but he would swear she was actively avoiding him. He and everyone else had headed to their bunks hours ago, but he hadn’t been able to sleep a wink, wondering what he’d done wrong. So now here he was, slumped on the couch in the lounge in his pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, his feet bare, trying to distract himself with work.

Adding to the overall awfulness of his day, he and Ward had been called in for their debriefing with Coulson, who’d been quite pleased with the success of their mission and had barely even mentioned Fitz’s stupid photographs, even though Ward had brought them up _several_ times. At least Coulson had let them know they’d be getting a day off as soon as they dropped off the intel they’d stolen for Hand. Maybe Fitz would have a chance to hash things out with Jemma and things could get back to normal.

He missed her.

A noise nearby had him lifting his head, and he blinked for a second before realizing he wasn’t seeing things. Jemma stood, apparently frozen in the doorway of the lounge, her eyes wide. “Oh, I, um, I didn’t realize anyone was up,” she said. “I’ll just…”

“Jemma,” Fitz said quietly, his shoulders slumping. “It’s fine. I’ll go if you want.”

“What? No!”

She pulled the cardigan she was wearing tightly around herself and stepped into the room. Her feet were bare, like his, and her hair was mussed like she’d been tossing and turning instead of sleeping peacefully. Fitz curled his fingers into his palm as his traitorous brain pointed out that there were other bedroom activities that could tangle Jemma’s hair like that, unhelpfully providing several suggestions about how he might assist.

“Fitz, I owe you an apology,” Jemma said, perching on the other end of the couch. She curled her legs under her and turned so she was facing him. 

“For what? Wait, is that my cardigan?”

Jemma glanced down and even in the dim light of the lounge, he could see her cheeks pinken. “Oh, um, yes. You left it in the lab last week.”

“So you decided to steal it?” Fitz couldn’t resist teasing. At least this was familiar. His collection of cardigans was forever dwindling down to one or two until Jemma showed up with a freshly laundered pile of the ones she’d stolen, claiming not to know how they’d all ended up in her possession. Part of him was jealous that his clothes got to be closer to her than he ever did, and the other part of him wanted to wrap her in his clothing all the time so everyone would know she was his, even if it wasn’t technically true.

Jemma made an exasperated noise and began to shrug out of the cardigan when Fitz realized he’d made a terrible mistake. Underneath it, she was wearing a skimpy tank top that bared her shoulders and left very little to the imagination. His eyes dropped to her chest, where the fabric clung to the curve of her breasts and did nothing to conceal the hard points of her nipples. His prick stirred and Fitz took a breath, tearing his gaze from Jemma and grabbing a nearby pillow to put over his lap.

“Here,” she said, holding his cardigan under his nose.

“Uh, no, you keep it,” Fitz said hoarsely, training his eyes on the floor and trying to think of unsexy things like necropsies and cat livers. Unfortunately, those were also things he associated with Jemma, and now he was imagining her working in a lab coat and nothing else. It didn’t help with his predicament in the slightest.

Jemma sighed. “Please don’t be angry with me.”

“What?” Fitz was really having a hard time following this conversation, though at least Jemma had wrapped herself back up in the cardigan so he could glance in her general direction again. “I’m not angry with you.”

“Well, you should be.”

He was completely lost. “I should be? You steal my cardigans all the time.”

“Yes, Fitz!” Jemma exclaimed, sounding indignant. “And I don’t mean about the cardigan. I’ve been absolutely awful to you all day, and you’ve done nothing to deserve it.” She scooted a little closer, looking distressed and Fitz wished he was brave enough to reach out and tug her into an embrace. She rested a hand over his on the pillow. “I’m sorry for being a terrible friend.”

Fitz stared down at their hands, the heat from her palm seeping into his skin, and tried to find his voice. “You’ve been fine, Jemma.” He tried to smile at her even while his brain was screaming that if the pillow wasn’t in the way, her hand would be resting on his… “You haven’t even made fun of those stupid pictures,” he said quickly, trying to distract himself.

Jemma’s eyes went wide, and she snatched her hand back, grasping the collar of the cardigan she was wearing and nervously tugging on it, exposing her collarbone. Fitz bit his lip to keep from groaning out loud.

“Why would I make fun of them?” she asked, her voice higher than normal.

“Uh, because I look ridiculous? I have no idea why they chose me instead of Ward.”

Jemma frowned. “Honestly, Fitz, is it that strange to think someone might find you attractive?”

He’d thought he couldn’t get any more confused by the conversation they were having, but apparently, he’d severely underestimated the universe’s ability to torment him. “I…I don’t know, maybe?” It might have been a trick of the light, but he would swear Jemma was staring at his mouth with an intensity that made him a little lightheaded. Or he was hallucinating.

“It shouldn’t be,” she said softly. Her fingertips grazed his knee and she was looking at him quite earnestly.

“It shouldn’t?” Maybe he’d fallen asleep after all and was having a very fantastic dream. Boldly, he reached out and pushed a strand of Jemma’s hair back, tucking it behind her ear. It certainly wasn’t something he normally did, but she didn’t pull away. Her eyelids fluttered in a way that made his heart do a flip in his chest and she leaned closer to him. “You, um, you didn’t think they were ridiculous?”

Slowly, Jemma shook her head and Fitz’s fingertips skimmed the curve of her neck. “No,” she whispered.

“Oh.” Fitz stared at her in complete bewilderment, unsure what was going to happen next. He didn’t appear to be in charge of this dream, because otherwise Jemma never would have put the cardigan back on, but there was no way this was reality. He twisted a strand of her silky hair around one finger and watched in fascination as she tipped her head towards his hand and nuzzled against his palm.

“I thought they were perfect,” Jemma whispered.

Fitz stared dumbly at her, unable to come up with a response. He was definitely dreaming. She leaned forward until her eyes seemed to take up his entire field of vision, and he still wasn’t prepared for the gentle press of her mouth against his.

She was kissing him.

Her lips were soft and lovely, and he wished he’d had some warning so he knew what to do. He couldn’t seem to get his mind to work. Did she want him to kiss her back?

Before he could gather his wits, she jerked away, her face flushed. “Sorry,” she gasped. “Oh god, I’m so sorry. I…I should go.” She leapt up from the couch and disappeared out the door, leaving him gaping at the spot where she’d been sitting.

Fitz pinched himself. “Ow,” he muttered. His eyes widened. “Wait, what the hell?”

 


	4. Act 4

Fitz stared blankly at the wall of the cargo bay, waiting for the others.

He’d been fully dressed and ready to get off this damn plane since very early this morning when he’d been unceremoniously jostled from his place on the couch and dumped on the floor as the Bus had begun its descent. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep in the lounge, but after what’d happened with Jemma he’d been rather paralyzed with indecision and hadn’t made it back to his bunk.

Had she meant _her_ when she’d said people found him attractive? And would she want to try the whole kissing thing again, now that his brain was semi-functional, or was she even angrier at him now?

And why the bloody hell had she been avoiding him all day if she’d wanted to kiss him? All she would have had to do was say something, and he would have tackled her to the floor and kissed her for as long and as thoroughly as she’d like. Good god, he thought about it so often that sometimes he almost forgot they’d never actually kissed.

Except now they had, and he’d been pants at it. This was a nightmare.

Fitz sighed heavily and leaned back, thunking his head against the metal wall. The lab was deserted, and the only person he’d seen so far was May, who’d come down to toss something in the back of the SUV before climbing into the front seat. She’d paused when she spotted him, and he’d seen her gaze flicker towards the lab doors curiously, but she hadn’t asked where Simmons was, thank god, since he had no clue. The most likely place was her bunk, but he wasn’t going to have another one-sided conversation through the door where anyone could hear him.

No, this was the best place to catch Jemma, since May was driving them all off base and into whatever town this was. They were somewhere in the southwest, Fitz was pretty sure, but he hadn’t been paying much attention. It had never really mattered before, since Jemma was always at his elbow, ready to regale him with statistics about wherever they’d landed and dragging him out to see the sights. She loved visiting new towns, and even if he wasn’t entirely comfortable with crowds or unfamiliar places, he went because it made her happy. And she always included a stop for lunch somewhere that she’d chosen specifically because she was sure he’d love it. She hadn’t gotten it wrong yet.

Tears pricked Fitz’s eyes. She was so bloody thoughtful, and he’d gone and buggered everything up by being an idiot who forgot how kissing worked.

Footsteps sounded on the metal stairs, and he jerked his head up in time to see the team coming down. Coulson was leading the way with Ward close behind him. Skye trailed after everyone, wearing a worried expression that cleared when she saw him.

“There you are!” Skye hissed when she reached the bottom of the stairs, grabbing Fitz’s arm and tugging on it until he got up. “What are you doing?”

Fitz stared at her in confusion. “Waiting for everyone?” Skye blinked at him, her brow furrowing, and then pulled him a few steps down a nearby corridor. “Wait, Skye-” Fitz craned his neck, trying not to lose sight of the stairs. Jemma hadn’t come down yet, and he didn’t want to miss her.

“What did you do?” Skye whispered, crossing her arms. She didn’t look happy.  

“What?” Fitz asked. “Nothing, I swear!”

“Ok, I’m just going to ask, because this is getting ridiculous. You like Simmons, right?”

“Of course I bloody like her!” Fitz said, offended. “She’s my best friend, remember?”

Skye dropped her head onto her hand and grumbled something about water and horses and morons that made very little sense. “No, Fitz, I mean like her.”

Fitz shifted uncomfortably, unsure what to say, but from the smug look on Skye’s face, that was answer enough. “Good. She’s upstairs.”

“Uh, ok?” Fitz said cautiously.

“Fitz.” Skye jerked her chin at the ceiling. “I mean, she’s planning on staying there.”

Fitz’s jaw dropped. “What…she’s not coming?”

Skye slowly shook her head. “So whatever you didn’t do, maybe you should go talk to her about it.”

Fitz scrubbed a hand through his hair, his mind reeling. He’d made such a hash of things that Jemma wasn’t even going to go explore a city she’d never been to. He was a horrible friend. Or, now that they’d sort-of kissed, a horrible boyfriend? This was all incredibly confusing. 

He took a deep breath. He wasn’t going to figure anything out if he didn’t talk to Jemma first. “Yeah, ok,” he finally said. “I’d better…”

“Yeah, you’d better,” Skye said, narrowing her eyes. “Good luck.”

“Uh, thanks?” He was turning to head for the stairs when Skye spoke again.

“I’m totally breaking the girl code here, but whatever she says, I promise she likes you, too.”

Hope blossomed in Fitz’s chest, making it hard to breathe. “Thanks, Skye.”

“Anytime.”

He grabbed his bag and took the stairs two at a time, hurrying toward the lounge. It was deserted, and Fitz almost turned toward the bunks, determined to stand outside Jemma’s door until she emerged, when a noise from the kitchen alerted him to her whereabouts. He dropped his knapsack next to the couch and smoothed a hand nervously down his button up—sans tie, it was a day off after all—and trying to think of what he should say first.

An apology seemed the best way to go, but Jemma might think he was apologizing for not being interested in kissing her when that was entirely the opposite of what he meant.

The sound of the SUV starting up told him the others were leaving, which meant it was just him and Jemma on the plane. For the rest of the day. Fitz pressed a hand to his stomach, trying to quell his sudden bout of nerves and reminded himself that she’d been the one to kiss him first, so he had nothing to lose. He hoped. Unless she’d changed her mind?

Skye’s parting words echoed through his skull and Fitz clenched his fists nervously before relaxing them again. If Jemma had changed her mind, he’d just have to make her change it back.

***

Jemma set the kettle on the stove and turned on the burner, trying to think of anything but how she’d probably ruined the most important friendship she’d ever had. She crossed her arms across her chest and hugged the cardigan she was wearing a little tighter. Dully, she made a mental note to launder the pile of cardigans she’d recently stolen from Fitz. She needed to stop torturing herself.

Lifting the collar up slightly, she inhaled deeply, catching a whiff of the Fitz-smell embedded deep in the fibers. The tension in her shoulders unwound, and she let out a sigh. Fine. She’d give herself until the end of the day to wallow, but then she had to pull herself together and soldier on. She still had to work with Fitz, after all, and the last thing she wanted was to make him even more uncomfortable than he probably already was.

Jemma winced as she recalled in vivid, awful detail, the shock on Fitz’s face immediately after she’d kissed him. How had she misread that situation so badly? He’d just seemed so surprised that anyone would find him attractive, even after she’d practically spelled out how hot he made her, and he’d been playing with her hair and then…and then, apparently, she’d completely lost her mind.

She groaned and dropped her head onto her hands. She had to make sure Fitz knew she was never going to cross that line again, which meant there was going to be a very uncomfortable conversation in her future. Luckily, she had all day to prepare.

Perking up at the idea of using her colorful notecards to sort out her thoughts, Jemma started to pull a mug down from the cupboard, then put it back in favor of another. If she was going to wallow, she might as well go all out. She had opened a drawer in search of a spoon as the water heated when a sudden noise made her jump.

Jemma whirled around. “Fitz?” she gasped.

“Um, hey.”

He slouched against the doorframe, his gaze wandering around the kitchen like he couldn’t even stand to look at her while Jemma desperately groped for something to say. He was supposed to give her time to get her head on straight, not ambush her before her first cup of tea. “Did the others leave?”

“Yep,” he confirmed, lifting a hand to pick at a flaw in the doorframe.

“But you…didn’t?” Jemma asked, trying to stave off her panic.

Fitz finally made eye contact and stepped into the kitchen, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “No.” His brow furrowed slightly, and Jemma remembered she was still wearing his cardigan like a smitten schoolgirl. Wonderful. She was already making things worse. “You’re making me tea?” he asked.

“What?” she asked blankly. “Why aren’t you going?”

He shrugged and took a step towards her. “Don’t even know what city we’re in, honestly.” He reached out and tapped a finger on the mug she’d set out. “And that’s my mug.”

Jemma’s eyes fell to his Grumpy Cat mug and she bit her lip. Dammit. “I must have grabbed it by mistake.”

Fitz’s fingertips lifted off the mug and slid under the cuff of the cardigan she was wearing. He stroked the underside of her wrist before tugging gently on the knitted fabric. Jemma suppressed a whimper and tried focus on anything but the fire he was stoking in her belly.

“And this is still my cardigan.”

His voice had dropped to a low, rumbling tone that sent goosebumps racing up her arms. Jemma’s nipples pebbled under her tank top and she sincerely regretted not changing out of her pajamas before leaving her bunk this morning. “I’ll…I’ll get it back to you tonight.”

Fitz’s eyes bored into hers, and Jemma’s mouth went suddenly dry. “And you kissed me,” he said.

Jemma’s heart sank. Friends, she reminded herself, she had to assure him that she was content to remain friends. “I…we’re in Albuquerque,” she said desperately.

Fitz made a faint noise of interest, but he didn’t let go of the cardigan or move away. Jemma’s body began to hum with desire. “Nice place?” he asked.

“Um,” Jemma said, trying to focus on anything besides Fitz’s lower lip. “Population of about a half million. There’s a zoo, an excellent site for viewing petroglyphs and they host a very popular hot air balloon festival every fall.”

Fitz’s lips quirked up in a small smile. “Does the zoo have-”

“Monkeys?” Jemma rolled her eyes, relieved that this, at least, was a familiar conversation. “Yes, of course, Fitz, I wouldn’t have mentioned it if they didn’t.”

“But you weren’t going to go?”

“I…” Jemma took a breath. “I gave Skye an itinerary for you.”

Fitz seemed to be searching her face for something, though she hadn’t a clue as to what he was hoping to find. “It wouldn’t have been the same without you.” He leaned forward and Jemma watched as he drew closer, trying to understand what was happening. He didn’t look upset, or angry, or disappointed that she’d nearly ruined their relationship because she couldn’t control her hormones. He looked like he wanted to…

The whistle of the kettle startled them both, and Jemma stepped back in an attempt to regain her equilibrium. “Um,” she said, clearing her throat and picking up the kettle. “Did you want tea?”

“No,” Fitz said firmly. Jemma looked over, surprised, as he took the kettle from her and set it back on the stove. All her breath whooshed out of her lungs as he took her hands in his, his fingers curling around her palms. “I wanted to fix this,” he continued quietly.

Jemma tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. “I’m sorry,” she blurted out, blinking back tears. “I shouldn’t have…I won’t-”

“You just surprised me,” he interrupted. “Last night.”

“What?”

Instead of answering, he pulled her closer, his arms sliding around her waist. He kissed her without warning and Jemma let out a startled squeak against his lips, but Fitz just tilted his head and she shifted automatically, helping him find the perfect angle. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she almost wanted to ask if she was dreaming, but that would require her mouth and it was rather busy at the moment. His hands slid up her back, under the cardigan and Jemma shivered, wrapping her arms around his neck. His tongue tentatively slipped between her lips, stroking the roof of her mouth and she let out a whimper, clutching at his shirt collar.

“There,” Fitz said, pulling back and sounding a bit flustered. “That’s what I meant to do.”

“What you…” Her mind was reeling. Fitz had kissed her. Which meant he probably hadn’t minded when she’d kissed him before, which meant… “Oh,” Jemma breathed. This was unexpected.

“Ok?” he asked.

Jemma stared up at him and tried to get her fuzzy brain to work. “Are you really here?”

He leaned in and brushed the tips of their noses together. “I was asking myself that last night after you disappeared.”

Jemma felt her cheeks heat. “That was your fault!”

Fitz’s eyebrows lifted. “How was you kissing me my fault?”

“If you hadn’t had those damn pictures taken, I wouldn’t have been so…out of sorts.”

“I don’t know, I’m kind of starting to like them,” he mused.

Jemma scowled at him even as her eyes fixed on his lower lip. She leaned forward and sucked it into her mouth, making him groan. He tasted delicious, even better than she imagined.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” she murmured, kissing a path up his jaw towards his ear. His skin tasted like soap and Fitz and she wanted to peel off his clothes and taste the rest of him, though she supposed that was getting a bit ahead of herself. “You and those stupid, gorgeous pictures.”

Fitz let out a disbelieving laugh. “Me? Are you sure?”

Jemma drew back, frowning. “Fitz, I spend every moment I possibly can with you. I steal your cardigans and make you sandwiches and force you to take tea breaks with me. I’m very sure.”

“Wait. Back in Sci-Ops? I could have been kissing you in Sci-Ops?” One of Fitz’s hands had found its way under the hem of her tank top and his thumb was sweeping across her lower back.

“You could have done anything you wanted,” she blurted out. Dammit, so much for not getting ahead of herself.

Fitz’s eyes widened. “Oh.” His lips touched hers in the barest hint of a kiss before he followed it up with a firmer, more insistent one. Fitz’s fingertips skimmed along her jaw, and she tilted her head back, sliding a hand into his hair as he began to kiss a path down her throat. “Like this?” he whispered. A thrill ran down Jemma’s spine as he grasped the collar of the cardigan she was wearing and pushed it off her shoulder, kissing along her collarbone.

“Yes, just like that,” she gasped.


	5. And Scene

Fitz was sure he was going to wake up at any moment.

There was absolutely no other explanation for the way Jemma was looking at him like she’d just discovered something new and was brimming with the need to share it. Except she kept kissing him instead of talking.

She tasted like mint, and her lips were perfect for nibbling on. She was making tiny, gasping noises that had his prick standing to attention, and he didn’t want to ever stop touching her.

Somehow, they’d made it out of the kitchen and he’d managed to divest her of the cardigan so he could kiss all the pieces of her he’d wanted to last night. The scent of her filled his nose and he buried his face against her throat, breathing her in. He pushed the strap of her tank top out of the way, his thumb skimmed the top of her breast, and decided that every inch of her he uncovered was more perfect than the last.

They tumbled onto the couch and Jemma pulled him down on top of her, wrapping a leg around his hip and groaning into his mouth as she rubbed herself against him. She was opening his shirt buttons one at a time, her fingers sliding under the fabric and plucking impatiently at the t-shirt he was wearing beneath it. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath and his mind was spinning in a thousand different directions.

If this was real, it was the best bloody day of his life.

“Fitz,” she murmured into his ear. “Please.”

Usually, he knew exactly what she wanted, but this was new, and he didn’t want to get it wrong. He trailed his hand down Jemma’s side to her hip and then began to slowly push her shirt up, his palm gliding over her stomach. “Ok?” he managed as Jemma nipped at his throat, soothing it with her tongue a moment later.

“Yes, very ok,” she breathed. “I need you.”

Her hips surged against his cock and Fitz got lightheaded for a second. Right. That was fairly straightforward. He just had to get his clothes off and her clothes off and—oh christ, Jemma with no clothes on. He wasn’t going to last ten seconds.

Jemma let out an impatient huff and yanked her shirt over her head before attacking the last of his buttons. Fitz made a positively embarrassing noise at the sight of her bare breasts while she shoved his shirt off his shoulders and tugged him down for another kiss. His whimpered against her mouth and cupped one of her lovely tits, tentatively rubbing his thumb over her nipple. Encouraged by her muffled gasp, he did it again, and then went cross-eyed as she wiggled underneath him.

Things were going to end rather quickly if she kept doing that, but he was really, sincerely not about to ask her to stop. What kind of genius was he if he couldn’t figure out how to get her to keep making those incredible little breath-hitching moans even if he shot off in his trousers?

She pulled on the hem of his t-shirt as he slid down and sucked one dusky pink nipple between his lips. Jemma groaned, her fingers tangling in his hair as she held him against her breast and he teased her nipple with his tongue. Her other hand was still tugging his shirt up, and he appreciated that she seemed just as eager to get him undressed.

Pressing his aching cock against the couch, Fitz tried in vain to think of anything besides how incredible Jemma looked while she gasped his name and arched up against his mouth. He lifted his head just long enough to let her pull his shirt off and then nuzzled into her cleavage before seeking out her other nipple, not wanting it to feel left out.

Jemma’s hands dug into his back, her legs wrapped around his waist, and Fitz was sure that nothing was ever going to come close to topping this moment. Although if he ever did manage to convince Coulson they needed a monkey in the lab, that would run a very close second.

He became aware that Jemma was tugging on his hair, and he reluctantly lifted his head, releasing her nipple. “Yeah?” he rasped.

“More,” she panted, reaching down to yank on his belt buckle.

Fitz whimpered as her hand moved even further down, pressing against his cock. His eyes rolled back at the feel of her fingers tracing his erection, hardly able to believe this was happening. He frantically wished he’d had the forethought to wank this morning. Ten seconds would be a miracle at this point.

Fitz tried to distract her with a kiss, but Jemma was as persistent as ever. Still stroking him with one hand, she unbuckled his belt and opened his zip, grasping his cock before he could regain any semblance of control. Her palm was hot and her grip was firm and she gave a little twist that might have been unintentional but proved to be his undoing.

“Jem…” Fitz croaked. His cock jerked in her hand and he came so hard his vision nearly went white, spilling his release onto her hand and stomach.

“Sorry,” he gasped. “I didn’t…sorry.” Christ, he was a complete disaster at this.

Jemma just hummed and let go of his cock, popping her thumb in her mouth to suck the come off it while Fitz tried, unsuccessfully, to keep his mouth from hanging open. “Well, that’s quite a compliment,” she said cheerfully.

There was absolutely no doubt in his mind that if he hadn’t already loved his best friend before this very moment, he would have fallen in love with her right there.

“Don’t move,” he ordered. Jemma’s smile got even wider as he found his t-shirt and began to clean her up. She twisted a lock of hair around her finger and waited patiently until he was satisfied with his work, tossing the shirt aside. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her pajama bottoms and looked up questioningly, but she just met his eyes and lifted her hips so he could slide the rest of her clothes off, tossing them aside.

Trying to keep his hands from shaking, Fitz settled them on her hips and gazed up at her face. Jemma bit her lip and twisted her hair a little tighter, telltale signs that she was nervous. What she had to be nervous about, he had no idea. He’d never seen anyone so beautiful. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her belly before moving lower, gently nudging her legs apart. The slickness he found between her thighs was wonderfully gratifying.

“Fitz,” she gasped, sinking a hand into his hair as his tongue found her clit. How he’d gotten so lucky, he had no idea, but he was going to seize this moment with both hands and never let her go.

***

This was certainly not how Jemma had expected her day to go. She’d planned on having a nice cuppa, followed by a sensible breakfast while she tried to figure out just how one apologized for kissing their best friend.

She had not planned on finding herself flat on her back, staring dazedly up at the ceiling with her best friend’s head between her legs. A moan escaped, and she fisted her hand into the couch cushions as Fitz shifted his attention from her clit, his tongue driving into her while she tried very, very hard not to buck up against his face.

She’d spent all that time imagining what he could do with his hands when clearly, her fantasies should have included his tongue. She really shouldn’t be surprised, Fitz always had been a quick study, and he excelled at knowing exactly what she needed.

He drew back and Jemma let out a rather pathetic whimper, only to gasp a moment later as he pushed two fingers inside of her, stroking her walls while his tongue returned to her clit. He settled on a rhythm that drove her absolutely mad, and Jemma bowed up, unable to stop herself, as her climax coiled in her belly. She came so suddenly all the breath left her lungs, pleasure rolling out from her center to the tips of her toes while her fingers tightened in Fitz’s hair.

“Fitz,” she finally managed to gasp, thighs quivering as he withdrew his fingers and kissed his way across one hip. She managed to loosen her hold on his curls, combing a hand through his hair in a silent apology. Fitz made a contented rumbling noise against her belly and a laugh bubbled up out of Jemma’s throat. She felt giddy, like she might float away if Fitz wasn’t there to anchor her to the couch.

Fitz shifted, and she lifted her head to find him looking up at her questioningly. “That was lovely,” she said, feeling a blush creeping up into her cheeks. Fitz’s smug smile made her laugh again, and then he was crawling up and wedging himself between her and back of the couch, his arms wrapping around her.

“Was it?” he murmured, brushing a soft kiss across her lips. She nodded, feeling inexplicable shy about her state of undress when she hadn’t even managed to get Fitz out of his trousers.

Jemma snagged his button up off the back of the couch, sitting up to slide it on and do up the buttons. She was quite pleased to realize his shirts smelled even more strongly of him than his cardigans did.

Fitz frowned and pulled her down next to him. “Where are you going?” he asked.

Jemma abandoned her buttons, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and nestling against him. He slid a leg over hers. “Nowhere?” she guessed as he nuzzled along her jawline and nipped at her throat.

“Good,” he murmured. He had a firm grip on her bum, keeping her close, and she could feel him growing hard against her hip. His kisses were getting more insistent, and Jemma clutched his shoulders as he sought her mouth again, his tongue demanding.

“Or,” she gasped, “Perhaps a bed would be nice.”

Fitz lifted his head, his curls in disarray and his eyes bright. “You are brilliant.”

“I know.” Jemma grinned at him.

He was up a moment later, quickly doing up his trousers and steering her out of the lounge, though it was difficult to walk when his hands kept sliding under her haphazardly buttoned shirt and she couldn’t seem to stop herself from kissing him.

They managed to make it all the way to the bunk area despite Jemma’s wobbly knees, but then Fitz pinned her against the wall next to her bunk, his tongue sweeping through her mouth as she groped for the door handle, and she was sure she was going to melt into a puddle on the floor. His fingers were making quick work of the buttons of her stolen shirt and he groaned against her lips as she finally got the door open.

They stumbled into her bunk and Jemma collapsed gratefully onto her bed, pulling Fitz down with her. She hooked a finger under the waistband of his trousers and made an annoyed noise. “These need to be off.”

“Jemma,” Fitz mumbled, kissing her throat while she fumbled with his zip and he pushed his shirt off her shoulders. “I don’t have any…” He inhaled sharply as her hand wrapped around his erection.

Biting her lip, Jemma concentrated on the feel of him against her palm, her thumb swiping across the head of his cock. Heat gathered between her legs. “Any?” Jemma prompted.

“Uh, I didn’t think…I really hadn’t prepared for this,” Fitz said hoarsely.  

Jemma slowly slid her fist down his shaft, fascinated by the way his lower lip quivered. “Well, then it’s a good thing I’ve been prepared for a while now, isn’t it?”

His pained expression shifted to one of awe. “God, yes.”

She lifted her free hand to tangle cup his cheek, drawing him down so she could kiss him while he kicked his trousers off his legs and stretched out on top of her, all that glorious skin pressed against her own. Jemma arched up as he palmed her breast and teased her nipple with one hand while the other tangled in her hair and positioned her head just right for kissing.

Jemma moaned, wrapping one leg around his hip. The feel of his cock so close to where she needed it was driving her around the bend, and she wiggled a bit, trying to find a more favorable angle.

“Hang on,” Fitz gasped, and Jemma had to swallow her protest as he rolled to one side, pulling her along with him. His hand clutched her bum as he urged her to move, and she caught on a moment later, eagerly straddling his thighs while he lay back on the bed, gazing up at her. “I just want to see you,” he murmured.

Jemma wanted to cry, it was so perfect. She should have known that Fitz would make this moment even better than her fantasies. Leaning forward, she caught his lower lip between his teeth, sucking gently, while she reached down to grasp his cock and position it at her entrance.

He grasped her hips, his eyes fixed on her face, as she slowly began to sink down. It took everything she had not to rush this, not when she’d imagined this in a thousand different ways on a thousand different nights. She’d given up hope it would ever be real, and yet, somehow, here she was.

Fitz’s hands glided up her sides and Jemma inhaled shakily as she paused, shifting slightly before taking him in a little deeper. It had always been impossible for her to name the exact moment she’d realized she was in love with her best friend, but now, at least, she would remember when she’d finally been able to show him just how much he meant to her.

They both shuddered as her pelvis connected with his, his cock buried deep inside her. Her head was swimming and her urgent need to move was tempered by her desire to stretch this moment out for as long as possible.

“You are bloody magnificent,” Fitz breathed.

Jemma braced her hands against his chest and bent forward until her lips just grazed his. “We always are.”

***

Fitz jerked awake and lay there for a moment, utterly confused as to why he was conscious when he’d never been more comfortable. Jemma was curled up beside him, her arm across his chest and her head nestled against his shoulder. He ran a hand through her hair, marveling that she was there at all, and she mumbled something that included his name before her breathing evened out again.

There was a knock at the door and Fitz frowned, turning his head. “Jemma?” Skye’s voice asked.

Shit, the others were back. Thank the bloody lord Jemma had prodded him to clear their things out of the lounge earlier, even though all he’d wanted was to lie in bed with her for the rest of the day. Though he supposed he’d just done that, actually, with the added bonus of not worrying about someone finding pants between the couch cushions.

Jemma stirred in his arms, her eyes slowly opening and Fitz tried to stuff down his panic about being caught in her bunk while simultaneously wanting to wake up like this every damn morning until the end of time.

“Hello,” she mumbled, giving him a sleepy smile. It went right to the top of the list of things that he loved most about her. Which was growing longer by the minute.

“Hey,” he whispered. “Skye’s outside.”

On cue, Skye knocked again.

Jemma’s eyes widened and she sat up in bed, clutching the covers to her chest. “They’re back already?”

Fitz squinted at her bedside clock. “It’s nearly dinner.”

“Guys?” Skye said.

“Hang on!” Jemma called, groping around for something on the floor. She stood up, and Fitz was distracted by her arse for a second before realizing she was putting his shirt on even though they were in her bunk. Something swelled in his chest and Fitz wanted to pull her back into bed and ignore Skye’s knocking. Jemma made her way over to the door and opened it a crack. “Sorry, I was, um, napping.”

Fitz leaned over the side of the bed, searching for his trousers. He really needed to be dressed if he was going to get to his bunk without anyone noticing.

“Uh huh,” Skye said. “And that’s not the shirt Fitz was wearing earlier.”

“It certainly is no…” Jemma began, her voice higher than usual before her shoulders slumped in defeat. “Alright, fine, it is, but please don’t say anything.”

“To Fitz? Oh my god, he doesn’t know?” Skye said. “What the hell do I have to do, lock you two in a room together?” 

“No!” Jemma hissed. “To…to everyone else. Of course Fitz knows I’m wearing his shirt!”

Fitz finally found his trousers and pulled them on, quickly doing up the belt and running a hand through his hair.

“Because you took it off him, right? Please tell me I did not bring you guys celebratory green chile cheeseburgers in vain.”

“Keep your voice down!” Jemma whispered.

“Um, Jems, everyone else already knows.”

“What?”

“Everyone knows. I think you helped Coulson win a bet; he’s been in a weirdly cheerful mood. Come eat dinner.” Skye said.

Fitz peeked around the door, resting his chin on Jemma’s shoulder. “What are green chile cheeseburgers?”

“Jemma had them on her itinerary, which, by the way, was scarily detailed,”

“Thank you,” Jemma replied, pride in her voice.

“If we’re going to eat, I need my shirt back.” Fitz kissed the spot just under Jemma’s ear, making her squeak, while Skye beamed at them.

“Right, of course,” Jemma said breathlessly. “We’ll, um, just be out in a moment.” She closed the door and turned, sliding her arms around his shoulders. “How does everyone already know?”

Fitz shrugged, then kissed her again just because he could. “Ok if I stay here tonight?”

“Bring an extra shirt.”

***

Skye rushed into the lab and slammed something down on the holotable. “You guys are never going to believe this!” 

“Hey!” Fitz turned towards her, frowning. “That is a delicate piece of equipment.”

“You’re a delicate piece of equipment,” Skye retorted.

“What won’t we believe?” Jemma asked, sliding a hand down Fitz’s arm. She felt him relax as she loosely tangled their fingers together.

“This,” Skye crowed, opening a magazine with a flourish. Jemma dropped Fitz’s hand in favor of clapping both over her mouth, and Fitz’s jaw dropped.

“What…they can’t do that! Can they?” He turned pleading eyes on Jemma and she tried her best to keep a straight face.

“I suppose it depends on the releases you signed.”

“I didn’t even use my real name!” Fitz said, putting his hands on his hips.

“We should get this framed,” Skye said, picking up the magazine.

“We are not getting that framed,” Fitz growled. “I don’t think that one’s even me!”

Jemma examined the ‘after’ picture—it was the photo where Fitz looked particularly put out about being soaking wet—in the ad for some horribly named body spray that claimed to improve everything but how you smelled. “No, that’s you. Though I’m not sure whose cheekbones you’re wearing.”

“Are you sure?” Fitz picked up the magazine and squinted at it.

Skye snorted. “Jemma is very familiar with every one of your pictures.”

Jemma shot her supposed-friend a withering look as Fitz scowled at the ad. “Christ, I hope my mum doesn’t see this.”

Jemma plucked the magazine from his grasp so she could get a better look. “Oh, I liked this one,” she said, touching her finger to the page. They’d used the photo of Fitz wearing glasses for the ‘before’ body spray image, though his features were oddly exaggerated, ruining the original effect.

“Really?” Fitz wrinkled his nose.

“This is very scientifically inaccurate,” Jemma said, frowning. “An improbable scent is going to have no effect on your bone structure.”

“So, we’re totally framing it, right?” Skye asked.

“No,” Fitz said.

“Of course,” Jemma replied. He turned to glare at her, crossing his arms. “Oh, alright,” she said. “But only because it’d be rather distracting.” She watched a blush spread across Fitz’s cheeks as he fought a smile, and her heart fluttered. Breaking their new lab rules just this once, Jemma lifted up on her toes and brushed a kiss across his lips. “The original is much nicer anyway.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus ends the saga of Fitz the accidental model. Thanks for reading! You're all awesome for letting me inflict this on you.

**Author's Note:**

> On tumblr @robotgort


End file.
